


Bound to You

by AlyssAlenko



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Arousal, Balcony Scene, Banter, Blushing, Breaking down walls, Canon Dialogue, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Character Study, Comfort, Cunnilingus, Death, Demon Summoning, Demons, Desire, Dorks in Love, Dream Kiss, Dreams, Elves, Elvhen, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Eye Candy, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, Fights, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, In the Fade, Innuendo, Kissing, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Loss, Loss of Control, Loss of a Friend, Love, Love Confessions, Mages, Magic, Magic-Users, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Rage, Reconciliation, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sex, Sex Magic, Shameless Smut, Silk Sheets, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Stolen Moments, Summoning, Summoning Circles, Surprise Kissing, Sweet, Teasing, The Fade, Trust, fade-tongue, giving in, giving in to feelings, personal quest, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-05-26 18:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyssAlenko/pseuds/AlyssAlenko
Summary: So I had this idea floating around in my head for the longest time.Solas put up the veil to seal the old Elves away because they killed Mythal. Then he makes us activate all those elven artifacts to “strengthen the veil” (either that’s not what they really did or he SERIOUSLY wanted to be stopped) and then he kills Mythal to get her soul and the old God soul to bring himself back up to full power so he can tear the veil down…But what if you had an Inquisitor that drank the Well of Sorrows, and was tied to Mythal. Would that mean that they were tied to Solas because he took her soul? Do you think they also felt Mythal's death? I feel like they must have and if they were in a relationship that he'd be easier to find in Trespasser due to the nature of the bond. And what if he killed Mythal BECAUSE the Inquisitor drank from the Well and was tied to her? In his own twisted way he thought he was helping and didn't realize how deep the bond went, considering Mythal controlled the Inquisitor and forced them to stop Morrigan. And then he felt guilty, because now that power is his, but he loves her and doesn't want to MAKE her do anything, and only then does he realize the gravitas of his actions.





	1. Fade-Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her continued interest in Solas and his studies, Solas finally decides to indulge Newti Lavellan in her fascination, taking her somewhere interesting to engage in conversation, but finds himself losing control of his his emotions that he had so well-trained…

“I’m interested in what you told me of yourself and your studies. If you have time, I’d like to hear more.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Solas’ lips. “You continue to surprise me. All right let us talk…preferably somewhere more interesting than this.”

Newti smiled and nodded, expecting—him to lead her away from the solarium and maybe out into the gardens or maybe down to the study, but he surprised her as he brought his hands up to her face, a slight flinch making him soften, his blue eyes staring deep into her pink and green ones, hunting for her permission; when she nodded slightly, he pressed the middle fingers of both hands gently to her temples. He wanted to talk where it was easier for him, unaccustomed to talking about himself, but she seemed genuinely interested and he found himself wanting to do what she wished. Her eyes closed as he rubbed his fingers in small circles, a soothing sensation, magic sparking from his fingertips as he cast a spell, Newti slumping against him in sleep. She’d forgive him his indulgence. He held his breath as he picked her up, her scent filled his nostrils—a mixture of flowers, leather, and magic, carrying her up to her room and laying her on her bed and tucking the blankets up around her, his heart stirring as he gazed at her—something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Solas pushed a strand of red hair out of her face, fingers grazing across the soft skin; he caught himself as he bent over her before he kissed her forehead, straightening immediately and rushing back to the solarium to join her in the Fade—she should be waking up there any minute and he needed to be there, and if he was with her in her room his walls might come crashing down harder.

The Haven chantry stood before them, snow flurries dancing in the air as they walked together, flags billowing in the breeze. Newti glanced around, taking a deep breath and examining her surroundings—if she realized where they were she didn’t say it…maybe she thought Haven had rebuilt after Corypheus thought he’d destroyed her and maybe he’d left it alone. And they both had magic on their side, so she didn’t question how they’d arrived at Haven. She rubbed her gloved hands up and down her arms, her leather jacket offering little protection against the elements, conjuring a fireball in her hand to warm her extremities, Solas holding his hand over the flames and basking in its warmth. Her eyes swam with curiosity as they met his again, waiting for him to go first, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to begin as they walked up the stairs together, a respectable amount of distance between the two of them, no matter how much he was intrigued by her and her fascination with him and the Fade, giving it more of a chance than anyone he’d met in his travels he was sure that was going to be his undoing. Solas had been so sure that his infatuation with her had been situational—certain it was the anchor that had drawn him to her.

“Why here?” She finally asked, unable to take his silence any longer.

“Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you.”

“But this isn’t supposed to be about me, Solas—I wanted to learn about _you_.”

He led her to the holding cells she’d woken in, the anchor spreading across her hand and nearly killing her as she slept after escaping the Fade at Haven—it was dark and chilly, torches flickering and casting shadows and an eerie glow on the dark stone walls. He ran a hand over the cool metal of the cell bars, remembering the way her hand felt in his. His eyes met hers briefly, before sliding away, an unknown emotion lurking behind his crystal blue eyes. Guilt. It had taken her a moment to place the look in his eyes, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why it was there. Sure, the anchor had hurt, spreading in time with the breach in the sky, but she was unconscious for most of it, and it wasn’t like it was his fault that she’d gotten the anchor in the first place—it was Corypheus’…him and that elven orb he carried. Newti placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. His mouthed opened, only to be closed a second later, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was trying to say. What if she hadn’t survived? What if she hadn’t been around to challenge him and make him rethink just about everything? Solas couldn’t bring himself to dislodge her hand from his shoulder, so much was conveyed by just that little touch, that he felt his world flipping upside down.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor.” He muttered quietly.

“Thank you…” Somehow those words felt insufficient. “…I’m glad someone was watching over me.”

Was that what he was doing? Or was he just satisfying his own curiosity?

“You were a mystery.” He smirked at her. “You still are. I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, and yet, found nothing. Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”

Newti snorted with laughter. “That _does_ sound like something she’d say.”

“Yes.” Solas chuckled, feeling some tension roll off his shoulders.

While she was sure Cassandra wasn’t all talk, she had a feeling she wouldn’t have followed through, not when Solas knew so much about the Fade, the Anchor, and the Breach itself. But now that she’d swapped smutty romance novels with the woman, it was hard to remember she could impale Newti with her sword as fast as she could conjure a fireball…thank the Maker Cassandra was on her side. Solas turned, her hand falling from his shoulder, they’d both forgotten it had been on his shoulder, the darkness of the room hiding the blush creeping across both of their cheeks at the contact. She followed him out of the cell block, feeling the electric current arcing between them as they headed back up into the snow, resisting the urge to take his hand in hers—the signals he’d been giving had been crossing circuits from wanting her, to wanting to step back, so she had to let him decide what he wanted, and wasn’t going to push him into anything. Only then did it hit her she hadn’t seen a soul the entire time they’d been here—something was odd, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“You were never going to wake up. How could you, a mortal sent physically through the Fade?” He stopped suddenly, turning towards her. “I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach. Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra…or she in me. I was ready to flee.”

“With the Breach threatening the whole world, where did you plan to go?”

“Someplace far away where I might research a way to repair the Breach before it’s effects reached me.” He coughed as she raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say it was a good plan…I told myself: one more attempt to seal the rifts. I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them.”

He thrust his right hand out in front of him, the same motion she did when she was sealing a rift—everything about it was the same…had he watched her that much because she was a mystery for him to solve, or because of something deeper? Newti crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against a low wall as she watched him, brow furrowed; if the mark _had_ killed her, what would have become of him…of everyone? He watched the Breach in the sky, green clouds swirling high above them, small pieces streaking out from the hole in the center, and green lightning lighting up the clouds, an angry reminder of the world that needed saving making her cock her head to the side—hadn’t she fixed that? What was going on here? Had Solas cast some spell so they could relive this moment in time?

“And?”

“I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then…” He glanced at her left hand, a memory sparked of him holding her hand up towards the first rift they’d encountered together. “It seems to hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture…and right then, I felt the whole world change.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest at the tone of voice—did he… _care_ about her?

“Felt the whole world change?” She teased, one hand on her hip as she watched the blush creep onto his freckled cheeks at her implication.

“A figure of speech.” Solas tried.

Newti stepped closer, biting her bottom lip and tucking a strand of red hair behind a pointed ear, hearing the hitch in his breath. “I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in ‘felt’.”

“You change… _everything_.”

“Sweet talker.” She smirked.

Her pale pink and green eyes flicked over him from head to toe, a spark of lightning on her tongue as she licked her lips, her distraction drawing a growl from his throat. He glanced away, shaking his head; it was obvious he wasn’t telling her everything, dancing around whatever this was between them and trying to hold her at arm’s length—he was intrigued by her, that was obvious, but something was holding him back. They stood in silence for a moment, Solas avoiding her gaze and muttering something inaudible to himself, before she took a deep breath, ready to take the plunge; her hand cupped his chin forcing him to look at her. Was challenging him her favorite past-time? This woman made him want to throttle her sometimes—despite her being the most beautiful woman he’d ever met; she used it to her advantage as much as she could, and it drove him nuts. It didn’t help that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, but the moment her lips touched his he lost every scrap of control he thought he had, surprise bristling down his spine—her lips were just as soft as he’d imagined and gone from his far too soon.

He shook his head again, knowing this was wrong and he shouldn't encourage her, but he caught her as she tried to walk away, his arm hooking around her waist hauling her against him hard. His pelvis rolled against hers, lips on hers in an instant with his tongue teasing the seam of her lips as he opened his mouth against hers, tasting her as their tongues intertwined. Her arms wrapped around his neck when he brushed her chest with his, pulling her closer, one hand on her waist holding her to him, the other behind her head, keeping her lips crushed against his. He picked her up, slipping his knee between her thighs, lifting it up as he bent her backwards, so she had to lean up into him and not fall, riding his thigh as it ground against her through the thin fabric of her pants making her moan into the kiss. She hummed softly, pressing herself up against him and arching her hips towards his. How long had it been since he'd wanted physical contact, allowed himself to feel? Solas made a low growl in his throat, suddenly snapping out of the daze he’d been in since they’d gotten here—this was actually Newti…not some fade dream he’d conjured to keep him company, and he couldn't afford to let himself be distracted. He set her back down on the ground shaking his head again and kissing her once more; several inappropriate dreams of her and then he finally had the real thing in front of him and he couldn’t hold himself back, falling in deeper.

Newti was breathing hard as she watched him.

“We shouldn’t.” He breathed. “It isn’t right. Not even here.”

She raised an eyebrow, bringing her fingers up to her lips where she could still feel the pressure and sparks from their kiss. “What do you mean, ‘even here’?”

He smiled. “Where did you think we were?”

Newti glanced around, everything suddenly clicking into place— _that_ was what had felt off the entire time: they were in the Fade. “This isn’t real.”

“That’s a matter of debate…probably best discussed after you _wake up_.” Solas whispered, leaning in close, his breath tickling her ear.

She jolted awake in bed, head spinning—that was incredible. Newti had wondered about Solas’ connection to the Fade, how he knew so much and showed her Haven; after that encounter she had come to a startling conclusion: Solas was a dreamer—capable of entering the Fade at will. The kiss hadn’t been a dream though, both of them conscious of their actions the entire time—the joy of being mages—which meant Solas had wanted that kiss just as much as she did. She smiled. Her lips still tingled, a slight pressure from where he’d crushed his mouth against hers still lingered. Throwing back the blanket, she finally took in her surroundings, curious why he had brought her to her room and hadn’t stayed with her after casting his sleep spell. She practically ran to the solarium, itching to continue what they’d started in the Fade, that amazing kiss had left her wanting so much more, and she could only hope he felt the same.

“Sleep well?” Solas asked when he saw her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

Like he even had to ask.

Newti rolled her eyes at how obviously pleased with himself he was. “I’ve never done _anything_ like that before...on a number of levels.”

He chuckled. “I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered, and I should not have encouraged it.”

She giggled; and yet he _did_ encourage it, even deepened it. “You say that, and yet you’re the one who started with tongue.”

“I did no such thing.” Solas argued, clearly scandalized that she would even imply such a thing.

“Oh, does it not count if it’s only Fade-tongue?” Newti scoffed happily, smirking at him.

He faltered—damn if he hadn’t wanted everything she offered. “It has been a long time, and things have always been...easier for me in the Fade. I am not certain this is the best idea; it could lead to trouble.”

The last thing Newti wanted was to push him into anything—if he needed time to consider the matter of ‘them’ she would grant it. No sense rushing into things when he was clearly torn. It was hard to miss the spark that had built between them, that kiss in the Fade had taken them past a point of no return, changing the atmosphere between them to something new and unfamiliar and exciting. Somehow, Newti had broken through a couple of the wards he’d built around himself, leaving them both vulnerable. He wanted her, of that she was certain, but something was holding him back from going for it and it wasn’t fair to either of them if he wasn’t in it one hundred percent. But she didn’t want to close that door, willing to risk the trouble.

“I’m willing to take that chance, if you are.”

Surprise bristled down his spine, reflected in his blue eyes. “I...may be, yes. If I could take a little time to think. There are...considerations.”

She nodded, smiling brightly at him, and making his breath hitch. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you.” He paused, glancing at her and studying her—very aware of how close she was. “I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams. But I am reasonably certain we are awake now, and if you wish to discuss anything, I would enjoy talking.”

“I’d love that.”

***


	2. All New, Faded for Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas needs Newti's help with something urgent, his friend, a spirit of wisdom, has been imprisoned against its will somewhere in the Emerald Graves and needs a rescue before something bad happens...but they arrive too late and Newti has to make a difficult decision
> 
> Follows Solas's personal quest All New, Faded for Her.

Solas sat in his high-backed chair in the Solarium, a cup of tea in his hands, a haunted look on his beautiful face as he brought the cup to his lips. Newti entered, the sway of her hips pausing as she noticed the distraction and pain etched across his face, as he took a sip, brow furrowing in disgust, shaking his head as he swallowed as if to clear it of the memory of what he just drank. He sniffed in disdain, wiping his left hand across his nose, his right hand transferring the cup to his left before setting the cup on the desk in front of him with a careful clatter next to the shard he studied so intently and carefully. He paused for a moment, not meeting her eyes before returning his attention to the cup, picking it back up and staring blankly into it, like it would provide all the answers he sought—he wasn’t used to asking for help and wasn’t sure where to start. Newti perched herself against the edge of his desk, so close he caught a familiar whiff of flowers clinging to her, but it wasn’t the time to dwell on such things—even if her presence was enough to help him shake the last lingering phantoms from his mind.

“Something wrong with your tea?” Newti asked.

“It is tea. I detest the stuff. But this morning I need to shake the dreams from my mind…I may also need a favor.”

Solas liked to pretend he didn’t need anyone, that he was alone in the world, and it made Newti happy that he was willing to lower his brave front, if only for her. “You just have to ask.”

He stood from his chair and strode across the room, his back to her to hide the pain on her face—he didn’t _want_ to see what he expected to be pity in her eyes, not in the face of his anger at the situation; he didn’t need her sympathy, just her help on something that was too important to ignore. Solas clasped his hands behind his back, his head down, blue eyes focused on what was suddenly a very interesting spot on the floor. She didn’t say anything, didn’t push, just waited patiently for him to tell her what was wrong, what horrible thing had happened as he slept that he drank a drink he hated just to push the phantoms of the night to the back of his mind, and for that he was grateful. She’d listened to his tales before of things he’d seen in the Fade, spirits he’d met, so hearing about yet another one couldn’t be enough to push her away—after all, she was still waiting for him to consider the thought of them together, and if she couldn’t except this part of him and ran, it would make his decision easier. He started pacing back and forth, finally glancing up and meeting her eyes where she was still braced against the edge of his desk, getting lost in her pink and green eyes that swam with concern for him, his well-being, and his state of mind, and he felt himself falling in a little deeper—something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, always letting his pride get the better of him.

“One of my oldest friends has been captured by mages, forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept.” He sighed, running a hand across his head.

Her eyes went wide as she stood, always ready to help someone in need—if he’d come to her with this sooner, they’d already be on their way. “I’d be happy to help. What did these mages use to capture your friends? Blood magic?”

“A summoning circle, I would imagine.”

Newti paused, cocking her head to one side. “I’m sorry?”

“My friend is a Spirit of Wisdom. Unlike the spirits clamoring to enter our world through the rifts, it was dwelling quite happily in the Fade. It was summoned against its will and wants my help to gain its freedom and return to the Fade.” Solas sighed.

“I thought spirits wanted to find their way into this world.”

“Some do, certainly, just as many Orlesian peasants wish they could journey to exotic Rivain. But not everyone wants to go to Rivain. My friend is an explorer, seeking lost wisdom and reflecting it. It would happily discuss philosophy with you, but it had no wish to come here physically.”

“Do you have any idea what the mages want with your friend?”

Solas shook his head, his body shaking with barely controlled rage at the thought that these mages might hurt his friend in any way, and Newti understood—losing a friend to hostile action was never easy…she lost enough clan members to know how he felt. She closed the space between them, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze; she’d do everything she could to help, to put his mind at ease—her touch soothed him more than she knew, just having her on his side made him happier than he’d been in a long time. Maybe one day he could care about her like that; sure, she could take care of herself, but it’d be nice to have someone risk everything to try to keep her out of harm’s way. Newti sighed and rubbed her hands up and down his arms, wishing there was something she could do to stop the terrors that plagued his mind—it tore her apart inside that she couldn’t fix it. All she could do was try to be there for him and hope her presence was enough to push the memories to the back of his mind, even if they were always going to be lurking beneath the surface ready to strike…

“No. It knows a great deal of lore and history, but a mage could learn that simply by speaking to it in the Fade.” His eyebrows knit together. “It is possible that they seek information it does not wish to give and intend to torture it.”

He’d jumped straight to the worst possible scenario, but she nodded; they wouldn’t know anything by standing here. “All right; let’s go get your friend.”

She felt his muscles relax under her hands. “Thank you. I got a sense of my friend’s location before I awoke. I will mark it on our map.”

It had been a long, hard ride to the place in the Exalted Plains where Solas had felt the last stirring of his friend outside the Fade; if Newti could’ve gotten there faster, maybe she would’ve been in time. A ripple of magic ran through the clearing, sending a shiver down her spine, and that was when she saw the bodies—bloodied corpses littered the ground in front of them; her magic skittered through her body preparing for a battle, pulling her staff off her back and gripping it tightly in her right hand, when a loud roar echoed across the plains, the sound of fighting and magic reverberating in her ears, as she and Solas rounded the corner, catching a glimpse of what was happening—Varric and Blackwall were back at camp, she’d thought it best for the two of them to come out alone. A pride demon loomed over three mages fighting from a distance, four pillars of ice—warded and out of place in the balmy heat—rose up from the ground, a ring of green in the grass around the demon; just as Solas had suspected: a summoning circle, and a prison to the spirit trapped within. Her hand flew to her mouth in horror as Solas’ face fell, staring sadly at the pride demon as all hope drained from his body. They were too late…the spirit of wisdom corrupted.

“My friend…” He growled.

“The mages turned your friend into a demon.” She breathed.

Solas glanced down, toying with his sleeve as he decided the best course of action. “Yes.”

“You said it was a spirit of wisdom, not a fighter—”

“A spirit becomes a demon when denied it’s original purpose.” He interrupted, the two of them glancing towards the hulking beast.

These mages had been playing with forces beyond their ken. How many other spirits had been forced beyond the veil out of the Fade, summoned and bound, changed and turned into demons for this damn war? How many had she killed without knowing? This wasn’t even the first time, Varric had told her about the mages who had been turning Templars into demons, she’d seen the Wardens under Clarel doing the exact same thing, and now this—even if Corypheus didn’t succeed, he had them all playing to their fears, and the result was terrifying. A mage had broken away from the fighting and approached them cautiously, probably seeking their help against the demon they’d made and lost control of, not very smart considering the low growl that emanated from Solas’ throat in warning. She grabbed his hand as he reached for his staff, ready to fight first and ask questions later—but they needed answers; her hand in his stayed his rage…tempering him, if only for a moment. Her hand in his was the only reason he hadn’t broken this man’s neck.

Newti closed her eyes in horror, wondering how she was going to keep Solas from breaking down. “So, they summoned it for something so opposed to its own nature that it was corrupted. Fighting?”

“Let us ask them.”

“Mages! You’re not with the bandits? Do you have any Lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted…We’ve been fighting that demon…”

“You _summoned_ that demon! Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time! You made it kill! You twisted it against it’s purpose!” Solas snarled.

“I…I…I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons, but after you help us, I can—” The mage stuttered.

“We’re _not_ here to help _you_.”

Newti pinched the bridge of her nose, suddenly in an extremely awkward position: always vowing to help those in need, but if she tried to save them from their own stupidity, she’d have an elf who knew the Fade like the back of his hand and helped her with her Rift Mage studies angry at her and willing to unleash all his fury on her. They’d been too late, and she didn’t know what she was going to do to help Solas through this; this spirit had been his friend for a long time there, and this was going to destroy him. She took a deep breath and moved closer to him, ready to stop him from doing anything stupid should the need arise—she could tell just by looking at him that this was probably not going to end well. But she wasn’t willing to back down—they’d save his friend, and in doing so, save his friend from being a demon; the more lives she could save, the better she’d feel at the end…her bleeding heart was going to get her in trouble someday, but for now it was going to serve her well. She’d studied enough summoning and binding rituals to know what must be done, both hers and Solas’ knowledge of the arcane very helpful in their situation.

She sighed. “Word of advice? I’d hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here.”

“Listen to me! I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall circle—” The mage tried again.

“ _Shut up_.” Solas growled, dropping Newti’s hand and crossing his arms over his chest, glaring daggers at the man before them. “You summoned it to protect you from the bandits.”

“I—yes.”

“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. _That_ is when it turned.” He spat, before turning to her, a silent plea in his eyes. “The summoning circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

The mage shook his head. “What? The binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it is a monster now!”

“Inquisitor, _please_.”

Newti nodded—she trusted him, and they’d wasted enough time already; she had lives to save. “It’s doable. I’ve studied rituals like this. I should be able to disrupt the binding quickly.”

“ _Thank you_.” Solas breathed. “We must hurry!”

“Of course.”

The mage ran off in the opposite direction, probably hoping the demon would finish them off and be too tired to go after him should they fail. Stuck inside the circle just beyond where they stood, the pride demon rose up to its full height, letting out a monstrous roar as it stared at them. Lightning sparked across it’s body, claws ready to rip them apart. There wasn’t much time before they lost Solas’ friend forever; fire raced down Newti’s arm and down then staff she clutched in her hand, he whole body lit up by blue flames as she muttered a spell under her breath—a counter to the summoning circle’s magic wards. The ground shook as the pride demon turned its attention on them, lightning arcing across its form again, ready to destroy them, but they knew exactly what they were doing. The other mages fled the same way when they realized the intent of the two elves, attention focused only on the four pillars of ice, breaking the summoning circle while dodging claws and swipes from the demon, but never firing a shot at it. it didn’t take long, and the giant hulking pride demon let out a bellow before shrinking suddenly in size, twisting into the figure of a woman in mage robes, eyes glowing green with corruption and her visage dripping green energy instead of the golden Fade aura Newti was used to.

“Lethalin ir abelas.” Solas whispered, setting his staff on the ground as he knelt in front of his friend.

“Tel abelas. En azel. Urtalin. Mamae llava alanae. Mala suledin nadas. Maga llanae me danan.” She replied, smiling gently; there was no way to ensure she remained a spirit after her ordeal, and she would rather die as herself than as a demon.

“Ma nuveinen.” Sadness filled Solas’ eyes as he glanced away, finding Newti’s gaze before he looked back at the spirit in front of him, holding out his hands and watching her dissolve into nothing. “Dareth shiral.”

Newti placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle, affectionate squeeze—he’d done everything he could. “I heard what it said. It was right, you did help it.”

“Now…I must endure.” He sighed.

“Let me know if I can help.” Her voice was soft and comforting.

“You already have.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, only lasting a second as the three mages jogged over to them. “All that remains now is them.”

He practically spat the word ‘them’ as he glowered at the mages, cowering just beyond the Inquisitor’s shoulder. Their eyes widened in surprise; they’d gone about this all wrong, realizing it as Solas rounded on them, fury in his blue eyes, the hint of purple more prominent in his rage—their only saving grace at this moment was that Newti didn’t want him to become a killer; it would be the biggest mistake of his life. She edged closer, while his attention was on the mages, ready to intervene if necessary. Newti put a gentle hand on Solas’ arm, feeling how tense he was and the lock of his muscles; he was ready to kill them for their ignorance, and that worried her—she didn’t want him to do this, a plea in her eyes, hoping what he read in them convinced him to back down. She was here for him and she understood how he felt; he was grieving but killing them wouldn’t bring his friend back.

“Thank you. We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected.” The mage said, stepping forward.

Newti pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing he’d had the common sense not to say a word.

“You tortured and killed my friend.” Solas growled low in his throat as he broke free of her grip on his arm, side-stepping her and advancing menacingly on the three mages.

He tripped over his own feet as he stumbled backwards. “We didn’t know it was just a spirit! The book said it could help us!”

So much for being the foremost expert in the Kirkwall circle on all things demon. She felt the lightning reacting instinctively and creating a wall between Solas and the mages, her interference in their deaths made him turn to her. She wasn’t going to let this incident change him; no matter how much life knocked him down, he seemed to have an uncanny ability to bounce back harder and stronger than ever, and this was no different. She got why he was upset, she really did, and he could take all the time in the world to make peace with her decision, but she stood by it; no matter how smitten she was, she wasn’t going to compromise her sense of self, of what was right and wrong, for him. And if he wanted her to, she’d step back from whatever this was between them in an instant. She only ever killed out of necessity, in self-defense, never revenge, but then again, he’d known that spirit for a very long time, it was like his clan; she just hoped that he wouldn’t hate her for stopping him. When he wanted to talk about it, he’d talk, and she would be there to listen when he was ready, no strings attached.

“I suggest you leave the book and run—don’t look back.” Newti muttered, placing herself between Solas and the mages; if he wanted them he had to go through her.

Solas growled. “Inquisitor, they killed—”

“I _know_ what they did. Dammit Solas, _you_ are better than that, than them.”

“Never again.” He growled, the lightning retreating from his hand as they nodded meekly before turning tail and running, Solas kicking the dirt in frustration. “Damn them all. I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold.”

Newti just nodded slowly, leaving him alone in the clearing—only looking back once to see him headed in the opposite direction; it wasn’t her place to push, she just hoped he didn’t hate her when everything was said and done. She took a deep breath, wiping away the tear sliding down her cheek and steeling herself for whatever. She picked her way carefully through the Exalted Plains, doing her best not to draw attention to herself, not in the right mindset for a confrontation—what she wouldn’t give to go back to her clan and put this whole Herald of Andraste thing behind her. She hoped Solas was okay. Why couldn’t she have fallen for Blackwall or Cullen or Varric instead of the knowledgeable fade-loving elf who tried her patience and her morals? Blackwall and Varric were talking about jousting as they sat by the fire, patiently awaiting their illustrious leader’s return, trying not to say anything about how sad and scared she looked, returning without the elf she’d left with. Whatever had happened out there with Solas had really rattled her cage and she looked like she could use her friends.

“Where’s Chuckles?” Varric asked when she arrived back at camp on her own.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he wanted to be alone and would meet us back at Skyhold.”

“Then I shall get started packing up camp, milady.” Blackwall didn’t push, and for that she was grateful.

“That was his real plan, I bet: get out of packing up camp. His tender constitution can’t take the hard work.” Varric teased, drawing a laugh from Newti, some of the tension draining from her shoulders.

It was nice to see her smiling again.

They passed the ride back to Skyhold, trading jokes and even dragging her into their tourney discussion—doing everything in their power to make her feel better and forget what had happened. Even convinced her to come to Orlais with them and see one. They kept her mind from wandering back to that moment in the Fade when they’d kissed. Solas’ lithe, muscular body pressed against hers, his hands on her hips, muscular thigh between her legs, the two of them breathing heavily as they stared into the other’s eyes. It hadn’t helped that he was so cute. Solas still wasn’t back when they returned to Skyhold—she’d checked everywhere he liked to go to be alone and think, asking the scouts to keep an eye out for him before heading up to her room to draw a scalding hot bath and sink into it, the water up to her shoulders as she drew her legs up towards her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Washing away the journey and everything that happened after, her only recourse, absently lathering up a loofa and rubbing it up and down her arms and neck, when a light knock sounded at her door, Scout Jim entering at her bidding.

“Oh, Inquisitor, I’m sorry!” He blushed and looked down, even if the walls of the basin hid everything.

“I assume you have news?”

“Scouts have spotted Solas heading towards Skyhold.”

She bit her lower lip, shifting in the tub, water sloshing up over the sides but evaporating before the droplets hit the floor thanks to her magic. “Thank you.”

Jim bowed out of the room, blushing and stuttering as he departed; she’d probably scarred the poor scout, and shouldn’t have sent him back to Cullen in that state, but she was a little preoccupied. She rinsed off, dressing quickly and fled down the steps out to the courtyard, where Solas walked under the portcullis sadly, his steps slow and heavy. She hadn’t realized how worried she’d been that he wouldn’t come back until she saw him there, wondering if she’d damaged everything between them beyond repair when she’d stopped him from killing those mages. But two wrongs didn’t make a right, and she refused to apologize for doing what she believed to be right. She’d accidentally built a metaphorical—and a physical—wall. He looked like he was feeling slightly better—still upset, but that was to be expected at the loss of a treasured friend—but the malice that had been in his eyes when she’d stopped him from killing the mages was gone, and that was a good start. In fact, there was a different emotion altogether in his eyes as they followed the trail of a droplet of water from her wet red hair, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

He inclined his head cordially in her direction. “Inquisitor.”

“How are you, Solas?” Her voice was soft.

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”

“Thank you for coming back.”

“You were a true friend. You did everything you could to help…” He paused. “I could hardly abandon you now.”

“Where did you go?”

He smiled softly at her—even after everything she still wanted to know about him. “I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be. It’s empty, but there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she smiled back at him, sitting down on the steps and patting the seat next to her, that familiar mischievous spark of lightning arcing across her tongue as she licked her lips. Newti scooted closer, her hip bumping his as she leaned in towards him, resting her head on his shoulder, her presence a comfort after that whole ordeal. Solas hadn’t realized how much she reassured him just by being there, a true friend in times of trouble. It had been so long since he’d trusted anyone, opened up, like he did when he was with her. He’d been attracted to her since day one—for more than just her looks, though those were incredible too. It was her presence; the way she inspired him to be better without even trying. She was protective of everyone around her, a born leader, the hero Thedas needed; the fate of everyone resting squarely on her very qualified shoulders. But she wasn’t allowed to show the wear and tear…didn’t have the luxury, and he suddenly felt guilty—not only had he caused that, he'd added to it.

“What happens when a spirit dies?” She asked, staring out across the courtyard.

“It isn’t the same as for a mortal. The energy of spirits returns to the Fade. If the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may someday rise again.” He explained, the scent of her hair pleasant in his nostrils making it hard to focus.

“So, it isn’t really dead? You’re saying your friend might come back?” The hope in her voice made his heart flutter in his chest—she really did change everything.

“No, not really. A spirit’s natural state is peaceful semi-existence. It is rare to be able to reflect reality. Something similar may reform one day, but it might have a different personality. It would likely not remember me. It would not be the friend I knew.”

Newti’s hand settled over his where it rested on his thigh—she was here for him no matter what. “The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”

He hung his head. “It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“I know.”

“I’ll work on it. And thank you.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder, smiling pleasantly at him before leaning in to kiss his cheek and standing, leaving him alone to gather his thoughts—most of which revolved around her…

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish this Chapter was phonetically taken from the game, considering my subtitles were the English translation, so I apologize if the spelling is slightly off.
> 
> Lethalin ir abelas: I’m sorry
> 
> Tel abelas: I'm not [sorry]
> 
> En azel: I'm happy
> 
> Urtalin: I'm me again
> 
> Mamae llava alanae: You helped me
> 
> Mala suledin nadas: Now you must endure
> 
> Maga llanae me danan: Guide me into death
> 
> Ma nuveinen: As you say
> 
> Dareth shiral: Safe journey


	3. Giving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas pulls Newti aside, unable to forget that kiss they shared in the Fade, but there are somethings he has to learn about her because he's already drowning and trying to find a lifeboat, even if everything he learns pulls him in deeper. She's a mystery a, a puzzle he wants to solve...

“Inquisitor, I was…” A blush crept across his pale, freckled cheeks. “Do you have a moment?” 

“For you, I’ll make time.” She winked at him, smiling flirtatiously.

He guided her out of the solarium, to her room for privacy, and out onto the balcony, doing his best to keep some semblance of distance between them. She didn’t push and for that he was grateful. Though, he realized he owed her an answer. He’d told her he would consider pursuing whatever this was between them, but he’d needed time and she’d just caught him fantasizing for what wasn’t the first time about her—he’d been thinking about it ever since she kissed him in the Fade and then that whole business with his friend. This whole thing was disastrous and surprising; he’d long since written Thedas off as a lost cause, a side effect of what he’d done, the people in it trifles, not real...small-minded, uncaring things, that he wouldn’t miss. Not letting himself get attached meant there was nothing to lose, nothing holding him back. And then there was Newti—she challenged him, made him question. He’d tried to convince himself his infatuation was because of the anchor...but she’d quickly proven that wasn't the case.

“What were you like before the anchor?” Newti scrunched up her nose, gazing at her hand as Solas felt his heart stir; she was beautiful. “Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your...spirit?”

“I don’t believe so.” She shrugged.

Newti watched him, her heart swelling with emotion—something was wrong...by this point she liked to think she knew him pretty well, and he was choosing his words very carefully. Was he pulling away again, or finally letting himself feel? Solas wanted her, of that she was certain—he’d said he felt the whole world change and that she changed everything, so she couldn’t figure out why he avoided the subject. He sighed heavily, having expected as much...was it wrong to hope the anchor had made her this way? He wouldn’t feel as awful about what he needed to do if that was the case. If he’d known her before, would he have been so brash and hot-blooded in his youth, or would she have tempered him just as easily then as she did now? She always had a purpose—a meaning behind every action, and he was slightly envious at how everything seemed to come so naturally for her, but it was also fascinating to behold.

“Ah.” He glanced away uneasily.

“Why do you ask?”

“You show a wisdom I have not seen since…” He paused, biting his tongue; he’d almost told her, almost lost himself and the shred of control he still maintained. “Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected.”

What _had_ he expected?

“What have I done that’s so surprising?”

“You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I have expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours...have I misjudged them?”

“I don’t hold the Dalish up as perfect, but we have something worth honoring; a memory of the ancient ways.”

“Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be; most people act with so little understanding of the world...but not you.”

“But I am who I am, Solas, I just do what feels right, what I hope will alleviate the suffering of those around me.” It was a heavy burden, but one she chose to bear with a smile. “Every decision I make is my own.”

“You are wise to give yourself that credit.”

Silence hung thick in the air, Solas watching her with a hunger in his eyes—this wasn’t why he’d come up to her room. If she’d been awful, walking away would’ve been so much easier, but as it was, she made him wish for things he couldn’t have, and shouldn’t want in the first place. Was it wrong to hope she would accept him, past and all? He was drawn to her in ways he couldn’t explain, thoughts of her always on his lonely mind. Newti even had him questioning his whole plan, changing his mind for her world— _her_. She was dangerous...but now that he knew just how much, he found himself drawn to the danger, the risks.

“What does this mean, Solas?”

A faint smile played about his lips. “It means I have not forgotten the kiss.”

“Good.”

Newti smirked and stepped closer. He seemed to be waging a war inside himself, battling with his feelings, and she didn’t want to push...too much. She clasped her hands behind her back, offering herself to him should he choose to take her. For a moment, he seemed to be considering it, but then he shook his head, trying one last time to walk away, spare her; he couldn’t let this happen. But she’d drawn him in, taken control without even trying, and even if he should fend off her advances, stop this flirtation from becoming more, he couldn’t bring himself to step away. How long had it been since he’d had someone want him? Not the god, not the rebel, not the trickster…but the man behind all that? Mythal was the last one, and he hadn’t realized how starved for real, pure affection he’d been, until she’d come crashing into his life wielding his key. He was powerless to resist her.

“Don’t go.” She pleaded, catching him gently by the arm.

Doomed. Solas was completely doomed, because he’d fallen head over heels in love with Newti Lavellan, finding himself utterly and irrevocably consumed by his need for her. He couldn’t escape it even if he wanted to. He tried to walk away, not only because she didn’t know the truth, didn’t know what she was getting into by getting involved with him, but he couldn't ignore how he felt anymore. His infatuation had long since evolved into so much more, Newti holding all the cards, and he was enamored—smitten. She was the key to his salvation and his destruction, medicine and poison, forcing him to finally face his feelings, instead of continuing to deny them. His love and his heart were hers, his vhenan.

“It would be kinder in the long run...but losing you would—” The rest of his sentence hung in the air as his lips found hers in a passionate kiss.  
  
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her closer, his breath mingling with hers as he kissed her deeply, her hands sliding around his waist, pulling his body snug up against hers. He swallowed hard, arching an eyebrow at her, his lips on hers in an instant, hands roaming up and down her sides. She melted against him. Solas drew back for air, his breath fanning her face, blue eyes—like the sea before a storm—gazed into bright pink rimmed with pale green. With their lips scant centimeters apart, he realized how precious she was to him. Here was someone who had no idea who he was, what he’d done or what his status used to be; Newti saw Solas...not Fen’harel—his true self, the part of him who loved The Fade, the part that wanted nothing more than to learn about and befriend spirits and tell others what he’d found out. She was a kindred spirit who engaged him in discussion and didn't judge him for his obsession.

And the touches.

He could get lost in her gentle, teasing caresses and despite the circumstances, a small part of him couldn’t figure out how he’d waited so long to touch her. She felt better than anything he’d ever felt in his long life. Her lips were soft as he claimed them, teeth scraping her lower lip before sucking it in between both of his, his mouth hungry and demanding against her own. He leaned forward crushing himself against her making her sigh against his lips as she melted against him, angling her head to deepen the kiss. He opened his mouth against hers, letting their tongues intertwine, tasting her as she pressed herself harder against him, rolling her hips teasingly—she was intoxicating and the need in his gut was almost overwhelming. She’d made him fall hard and fast, when he’d least expected it.

Solas wanted her like he wanted air.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” Solas muttered, pulling away and heading inside.

Newti followed, stunned and breathless, leaning against the balcony door frame, praying he’d turn around, that he wouldn’t leave. She got her wish. He reached the edge of her large four-poster bed and turned towards her, beckoning her with a crook of his finger, his gaze as it raked lasciviously up and down the curves of her body was smoldering with heat. Sweet Maker, she was enough to break any man—Fen’harel, the Dread Wolf, Rebel God; the perfect image of precision and control, brought to his knees and she had no idea what she did to him, how much power she had. She’d caught him completely off guard, and he’d fallen in love. If she asked him to give her everything, every piece of himself, he would...and that was the most dangerous part of all.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one Elvish phrase this chapter and it's one we all know well...
> 
> Ar lath ma, Vhenan: I love you, my heart


	4. Exquisite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the reason for the rating change to Explicit *wiggles eyebrows*
> 
> Picking up where chapter 3 left off, Solas finally gives in to his desires, letting himself have the woman he's been lusting after for far longer than he cares to admit. Though it comes with a surprise he hadn't expected...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by Hazumonster

Solas held out his hand, Newti sliding her hand into his when she got close enough, his fingers stroking her skin as they closed around it. The heat in his gaze caressed her body, a promise of what was to come, and she felt a twinge in her body, heading straight to her core. He spun her so the four-poster canopy bed was behind her, his movements graceful like they were engaged in a dance. Her body curled into his, gentle fingers cupping her chin and making her look up at him, lips meeting in a passionate kiss, Solas catching her lower lip between his and grazing it gently with his teeth. Newti’s hands slid up under his tunic, fingers cold against his hot, flushed skin and she hadn’t even cast a spell. Running her hands across his chest and stomach muscles through as she pushed it upwards, tracing every muscle she exposed with a gentle finger, her lips finding his in a heated, passionate kiss that left them both breathless.

The jawbone pendant he wore came off, tangled in his shirt as she peeled it off over his head, catching it in her hand before it clattered on the stone floor. The fabric fluttered to the floor, immediately forgotten. She grinned seductively, circling around him like he was prey, blue eyes following her every movement before she drew her left hand down his arm to catch his hand in hers. She brought it behind his back, as he glanced over his shoulder at her, his right hand joining his left, wrists crossing over each other. Newti kissed him between his shoulder blades as she wrapped the leather cord of his pendant around and around his wrists and tied it off. His trousers and smalls pooled on the floor around his ankles, her movements barely registered in his muddled brain; though he’d had no idea what he’d been getting himself into, but he’d been thinking about this far longer than he cared to admit, and he was ready to relinquish control. He was putty in her hands and she knew it. She whirled him around, a firm hand on his shoulder as she pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Achingly slow, she peeled her jacket off and then the teal scarf tied around her neck, her tunic following close behind. She bent over him, her palms braced against his thighs, nails scraping the skin gently as she curled her fingers, breasts threatening to spill out of her brassiere. Solas’ erection twitched, begging for her attention. She kissed the tip of his ear, sucking slightly and making him hiss, before trailing along his jaw, his neck, his chest, leaving little red marks in her wake. Heat emanated from her gaze, making Solas flush red in excitement; she’d always been the one in control, the one who held all the cards. He’d spent so long dancing just beyond her reach, contenting himself with dreams of her—of them together—imagining this scenario many times but no fade dream, wish, or fantasy had panned out quite like this in his head, entrapped by the object of his forbidden desires.

“Vhenan, please!” He hissed.

She smirked and backed away, leaving his skin bereft of her touch, an involuntary groan escaping him at the loss. “Haminas, ma da veraisa. This is only fair after making me wait so long.”

He twisted his hands in the leather, testing the give of the cord, but he shouldn’t have been surprised at how incredible her knot tying was, after all, he’d seen her tie their mounts up when they stop for a breather while traveling, and they hadn’t lost one yet. Newti pushed his knees farther apart and stepped between his thighs, her hand slipping between them and stroking his swollen cock as she went to her knees taking it fully into her hand and giving it a playful tug, the skin pulsing in her palm under her touch as she caressed him with her fingertips, traipsing gently up and down his long, thick erection. His nostrils flared as a blast of cold emanated from her teasing fingers, followed almost immediately by an arc of lightning. Her hand curled around him pumping him slowly, watching as the precum bubbled up from the tip before she twisted her fingers around his shaft making him groan and arch his hips, thrusting into her hand. His head lolled back and she took advantage of his distraction, her tongue darting out from between her lips, licking the tip of his erection. Solas’ eyes snapped open on a growl as he struggled against his restraint, resisting the urge to set the whole thing—pendant and cord—on fire as Newti traced patterns on the skin of his shaft with her tongue.

Another shot of lightning had him wondering how much longer he could last, even if it was obvious she’d only just begun teasing him; she’d be very unimpressed with his staying power if she kept doing what she was doing. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she made eye contact, placing feather light kisses up his shaft, lips sucking slightly at the skin there every time she pulled away. She held him tighter, her right hand had his shaft in a vice grip, the new sensation causing his hips to surge forward, pushing his arousal through her tight fist, her hand strong, movements slow as it squeezed his shaft just under the crown and pushed back down to the base. While her hand was busy pumping him deliciously slow, she ran the tip of his cock over her lips, tracing the shape, and with a twinkle in her eye, the thick head disappeared between her lips and she sucked lightly before releasing him. His responding moan made her smile.

“That feels…” Solas stumbled around his tongue, mind clouded with lust as she sucked harder, stars bursting behind his eyelids. “...exquisite…”

“If you can still use a word like ‘exquisite’, I must not be doing this well enough.” She teased winking up at him.

His muscles tensed and just as he felt his loss of control, her grip loosened and his cock fell from her mouth...his body teetering on the precipice of orgasm, Newti denying him the fall into bliss.

“You were doing perfectly well.” He muttered through gritted teeth as he swallowed hard.

Newti laughed as she ran her hands up and down his perfect, muscular thighs, nails scraping his skin. She wouldn't admit that she'd dreamed of those thighs often: behind, under and between her own and now she finally had a chance to make those dreams a reality. But first she wanted to make him cry out for her, unravel the last lingering vestiges of his self-control. Reddish-pink lips opened to take him fully into her mouth, his hips jerking under her careful attentions. She started to hum as she sucked hard and swallowed around his tip, the rolling motion massaging the skin on his shaft. Solas was writhing underneath her, hands twisting against the leather cord knotted around his wrists, letting out a deep, throaty moan that sent shivers down her spine. She felt immensely powerful that she was the one who could make him feel like that, make in come apart in her hands. She moaned around his cock, bobbing up and down his shaft, as his hips thrust upwards sending his engorged shaft deeper into her mouth. A familiar and mischievous spark of lightning vaulted across her tongue as she flicked it against his slit, a dare in her eyes as she gently sucked. He nearly screamed when she pulled away, once again denied his climax.

Arms crossed over her chest, she gazed at him, her pale pink and green eyes darkened in lust, her chest heaving as she tried to control her breathing, just as aroused as he was to have him entirely at her mercy. Solas hadn’t expected her to still desire control, the burden of ‘Inquisitor’ was heavy enough. He wanted to touch her, peel her out of her pants and undergarments she still wore and feel her soft skin underneath his hands and take her hard and fast—a punishment for all her teasing. Solas’ cock throbbed painfully, begging for release. Her fingers trailed down the side of his neck, and down the sinewy muscles of his chest and stomach, alternating between hot and cold as she leaned in, sucking the tip of his ear.

“Dirth em ahn ma nuvenas.” She purred, her mouth against his ear, her hands sliding down to his thighs, nails scraping the skin gently.

He growled low in his throat; she didn’t know?

“Untie my hands.” His voice was husky, a dangerously low rasp that sent a shiver down her spine. “I need to touch you.”

Newti grinned as she straddled him, her breasts mashed against his chest and his mouth pliant under her lips as she drew her teasing fingers down his arms. The cord had barely left his wrists when she felt the ridiculously soft Orlesian silk sheets against her back, Solas eager to have her; claim her as his own. Nimble hands quickly peeled her trousers and smalls from her body, naked skin glowing in the sunlight that streamed in from the windows on the balcony doors. The loss of his carefully crafted control surprised him, though maybe the denied climaxes had something to do with it; but as she lay there under him, green and pink eyes watching and waiting for his touch, Solas knew he was lost. He was never going to have enough of her...and that scared him. Her toes caressed his calf as he hovered over her, purple flecks in his blue eyes as he caught her stare, hands braced against the mattress on either side of her head. A gentle hand cupped his jaw, bringing his face down to hers, lips fiercely and passionately connecting in a heated kiss.

Solas groaned, as she arched her hips up to meet his, feeling how aroused she gotten pleasuring him, her slick folds gliding along his shaft. The skin around his eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled down at her; every inch of her skin was flushed, her chest heaving, as she watched him, waiting. If he took too much longer to be inside her, she’d take control back, and his first climax would be all over his stomach and chest, having barely touched her. She winked at him, wrapping her leg around his, foot braced against the mattress, just a few seconds from flipping them over, he hilted himself inside her, connecting them with a growl. She felt like heaven, and he realized how long it had been since he’d let someone in, since he’d craved affection and the touch of another. Soft hands cupped his bottom, nails digging into the skin as she pulled him deeper within her. Her walls clenched around his shaft as he pulled back, only the first inch of his erection still inside her, before he snapped his hips forward, the headboard of her ridiculous Orlesian four-poster canopy bed smacking into the wall.

“Ma sildeara on’ala; so soft and wet just for me.” Solas rasped in her ear, his voice hoarse from lust causing a shiver to crawl down her spine.

His index finger teased her clit as his pelvis drew back, before pushing forward into her, wood slapping stone again as they rocked together, bodies melting into one. A bead of sweat trickled down Solas’ forehead his body shaking with the need for release, having been thoroughly worked over by her mouth and hands—and denied his release for too long. He wasn’t going to last now that he was finally inside her. Newti gazed up at him, a cat-in-the-cream smirk on her face and one hand remaining firmly on his hindquarters as he pushed forward and arched back, the other tracing designs with magic up his side, nails gently scraping his skin before she cupped his chin. Her mouth met his and he felt his release, pulling out quickly a stream of white spurting from his tip, spilling his seed on her chest and stomach. She was pink from cheeks to chest, the color in combination with her tan skin highlighted the flecks of white, on her naked breasts and his scent mingled with hers had him wondering where his amazing self-control had gone when he’d claimed her as his. His slender fingers continued teasing her, her body arching as she ground her hips into his hand chasing her own climax.

“By the Dread Wolf, Solas…” She panted as she came, writhing in pleasure under his attentions.

His freckles stood out against the blush on his pale skin—he hadn’t expected those words to fall from her lips and having her evoke Fen’harel while the Dread Wolf himself loomed up over her had him fully hard again in a matter of moments. Having sated himself after her merciless teasing, a new desire to taste her was brimming, and he eased himself down her body, widening her legs and gazing at her slickness, all for want of him and because of him. He grinned wolfishly up at her as she propped herself up on her elbows, before dipping his head and falling on her like a slavering beast, tongue teasing her in several different ways, his magic making her writhe beneath him. His alter ego practically beat his chest with pride as it surfaced and she had no idea what that innocent little Dalish phrase had unleashed.

He lifted her hips to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on her clit, eliciting a broken, pleading gasp from her as the tip of his tongue traced her slit, wet with her arousal, gathering her flavors into his mouth as she moaned. Plunging his tongue inside her, she arched her hips invitingly, begging for him to devour her...and he intended to do just that; her juices coating his lips and chin before he closed his mouth over her dripping sex and sucked hard, tongue flicking at her clit. Her thigh muscles clenched under his hands when he sucked the sensitive little nub between his lips, tugging gently and drawing a soft whimper from his lover as she came apart at the seams. This was exactly the sweet revenge he’d had in mind; seeing her unravel before his eyes—though he’d be the first to admit having her in control had definitely stoked his appetite for more nights just like this one. Solas crawled back up the bed, getting distracted by her body and dropping kisses along her skin before settling in beside her on the bed and picking her up to lower her down onto his erection. Lazily he pressed his lips to hers as she leaned over him, using her legs to push herself off him, before she lowered and took him deeper.

“Ma ane emma or ’ma, Vhenan.”

“Mala i bellanaris.” She whispered between kisses.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used an English to Dragon Age Translator for the elvish in this chapter (by lingojam).
> 
> Haminas, ma da veraisa: Relax, my little tease (sexy flirter)
> 
> Dirth em ahn ma nuvenas: Tell me what you want
> 
> Ma sildeara on'ala: You feel amazing
> 
> Ma ane emma or ’ma, Vhenan: You are mine, my heart
> 
> Mala i bellanaris: Now and forever


End file.
